Suffocation is the Cause of My Death

They say life is not measured by the number of breaths we take, but by those moments that take our breath away.

I cannot remember the last time I had a good sleep. When I was a baby, lulled by my mother’s soothing tune? Or maybe it was after the chaotic party at my friend’s house? Oh, that night was wild! The empty bottles of pink gin, spilled soda and the traces of my vomit on the bed and on my friend’s shorts were definitely unforgettable. The hangover was so intense that I can’t remember what happened after I puked my guts out. All I could recall is my blurry vision preventing me to reach the bed and my rowdy friends kept dancing and singing deafening ballads until dawn. I wish I could go back to those times. 

Last November, I woke up to the sound of my father shouting on the screen of his cellphone. I struggled to open my eyes because I did not want him to know that I was awake. The white blank wall stared at me until I forced myself to go back to sleep. Then, it happened again next morning. And the morning after that. And the morning after that. And the morning after that morning. I never saw my parents argue in front of me or at least in this situation, on the screen, beside me. If there is one thing that I learned from my father, it is to never ask questions. Asking questions means questioning his authority so it would lead to endless fights with him, since I refuse to back down. If there is one thing that my mother hated, it is arguments. 

For my mother’s sake, I refused to do the one thing that I was itching to do-- speak up. Anyway, I had a lot of things on my plate. A hefty pile of requirements and a hectic social life faced me every week. School gave homework generously you’d hope that the Philippine government would be that kind in giving relief. After gruesome paper works and taxing presentations, I partied every weekend, going home with a hangover, messy hair, runny jet-black mascara, wearing my friend’s favorite gray shirt. Vodka, beer, whiskey, tequila, name it all and give me a crisp five hundred bills if I tried that drink. I’d give you a thousand if I lose in beer pong. This life was breathless. I loved the thrill of it all.

Last March, a circumstance forced us to stay at home. My heart sank. I left my friends without saying goodbye. A lot of them moved for college so I knew that I wouldn’t be seeing them anytime soon. Every day, I spent my days and nights on my plump white king-sized bed, waiting for my friends to call me or maybe even wonder if I’m doing fine. I answered mind-boggling modules that left me helplessly praying to God to stop the pandemic so we’d return back to normal. After answering my modules, I stared at the white blank ceiling, wondering if the ceiling is somehow closer to me today than it was yesterday. 

I steadily drifted off to sleep until a familiar sound that awakened my mind from a somewhat peaceful dreamland. Inhumane insults, unsuppressed tears and deafening voices greeted me that morning. And afternoon. And evening. And the hour after that. And the minute after that hour. And the week after that minute. The arguments became a part of my day like breakfast, lunch and dinner. I savored every word. Every pause etched on my mind. For some reason, every time they would argue, our house seemed tighter and dimmer. The white walls got closer and closer to my bed. The lights flickered with every curse. 

When the white walls got tight enough to surround my bed, I felt a familiar feeling-- breathlessness. As the white walls and the white ceiling locked me into a still position, I chased my breath in the way that I would after a straight shot of tequila. I reminded myself to breathe and breathe. The tears I shed whenever I broke down because school works flooded me and the permanent smile on my face whenever I partied with my friends flashed before me as I struggled to gasp for air. I saw my entire life, refreshing my senses why I had to fight for another day. I had to hold on for another day to get out of my confinement and create more times to reminisce. 

But sometimes, life isn’t always full of hope. There are people or circumstances that prevent you from being carefree. Life asserts control to tell you that everything is fleeting and you can’t do anything about it. Life is a b***h.

Oh, wait. I finally remember when I got a good sleep! I rested peacefully, swaddled in a comfortable white blanket, enclosed in a small box lined with white cloth. I laid there in my pretty white dress, smiling in silence. My mother hummed the tune of Ed Sheeran’s angelic lullaby.

Spread your wing.

And I know that when God took you back he said Hallelujah.

You're home.

Author's Note

Feel free to review my writing <333 I want to know your thoughts.

Reviews

[barleygirl]

This is a very powerful confessional that sounds like it's autobiographical, since it's so compelling & fresh & spontaneous. At first, I wasn't 100% into your story. The first 3 paragraphs describe what most people experience when they graduate from high school and/or go to college. But the 4th paragraph is where your story started to stand out & I started to feel the deep spiritual significance, recognizing this as a personal outpouring of life lessons. Also, at this point & to the end, your writing went into a more creative direction -- even tho I did enjoy reading the first 3 paragraphs, being clear & compelling -- from that point onward, you found more & more creative ways to express yourself, almost with a mystical quality to the way you describe some feelings. It is a mind-blowing ending, with the twist that the narrator is dead as his/her life is pondered in this tale. As a whole, the trajectory you take for your storyline is inventive & unexpected, the things I really crave when I read stories. I hate predictable s**t & there's a ton of it out there to read. This is all very relatable & clear, but it takes the reader by surprise becuz of the way you express yourself in fresh original ways (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[pearl]

Thank you so much! This piece is really personal and I struggled so much in making this huhu but I'm so glad you liked it

[Einstein Noodle]

surprise ending ... :)I think there is a strong story in this... really like the way you play with Suffocation in the title ... our spirits and strengths many times are snuffed out by those around us ... in this case your protagonist did not survive it .. she is not alone in that sadly :( i want to know why the Father was screaming at the cell phone screen .. you mention the white walls and ceiling and i want to know more about its significance .. i don't want to guess ;) this:
"The arguments became a part of my day like breakfast, lunch and dinner. I savored every word." is a poignant turn says i ... her spirit has become so accustomed to the arguments she actually savors the words .. i didn't know why she would at first but after thinking about it ... it is so tragic .. i am empathetic to her big time .. for the loss of her ... lots of good stuff in this .. confessional is always risky but it works ... i think it would benefit you as a writer if you wrote this again and re-wrote it one more time ... just for practice .. but i am no pro .. and have only attempted short stories a few times for classes i took .. re-writing always helped me to clear the scenes up .. punch the theme a bit stronger ..eliminate the unnecessary ..all that good stuff! well done .. i really feel for your speaker .. it is not easy to grow up ... nor throw up :))))))))))) but we can learn from it if we are willing
E.

[pearl]

Thank you so much for your review! I will definitely find the time to write this again. I hope you'll read it again after!

[Gaurav]

with the hope with which one lives sometimes is crushed under the burden of social norms and self-inflicted mental harms. For me it is the hope to find a meaning of life. This again is not a very hopeful dream but I can't entirely leave dreaming. It is an on-going thing. Your story reminds me of a person entrapped in a time-space fabric and there are so many factors at play that she can't do anything except hugging the end. Good one

[pearl]

I wrote this piece for my creative writing class. Thank you so much for your review!